


Mourning Clothes

by jonius_belonius (Joni_Beloni)



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Cross-Dressing Mike, High Noon Reimagined, M/M, Season 2, Smut, minor fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 03:04:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6406168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joni_Beloni/pseuds/jonius_belonius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Harvey comes over to Mike's apartment to check on him after Grammy's death, he doesn't find him smoking pot.  Instead, he has found a different way to cope with his grief.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mourning Clothes

Mike watched the last of his weed circle the toilet bowl before it was sucked down into the pipes and sewer system of Brooklyn. He let out a slow, shaky breath, already missing the crutch that had been propping him up and holding him together in the days since Grammy’s death.

Moving back into the bedroom, he eyed the clothes laid out on his bed. He smoothed a hand over the blue silk blouse, straightened the hem of the black pencil skirt, fingered the straps of the lacy black bra, and crumpled the matching panties in one hand to inhale their flowery fragrance before rubbing them against his jaw.

He spent long minutes drinking in the sight of the clothes, picturing himself after he completed his transformation. This was all part of the ritual, this anticipation, and tonight, he made a point to prolong it, focusing on all of the minute details of the outfit, the textures and colors and sheen, each button and seam and crease, imagining how he would look and feel an hour from now.

He needed this. The pot might have been a bad idea, but it had helped him survive the first week of _Orphan v.2,_ allowing him to get his grandmother into the ground without coming apart completely.

As a non-chemical alternative for calming his mind, only sex had ever proven more effective than cross-dressing. In a sudden surplus of ambition, he’d decided that tonight he would try for a combination of both. The current object of his lust may have dismissed him with barely concealed contempt days earlier (and may or may not have fired him), but he had other options. Probably. If things went as planned.

He’d bathed already, and shaved everywhere. (One day soon, he promised himself, he’d splurge on a spa day including full body wax, but for now the razor would have to do.) As he pulled on the silk lace panties and adjusted himself inside them, he took a moment to admire the look of his long, smooth legs. They felt uncommonly soft, and shone after an application of moisturizer.

His dick plumped as lace abraded it, and he let out a careful breath. Years of practice helped keep his excitement in check for now. Later, if things went well, he might find a stranger willing to thrust a hand up his skirt and stroke him to completion, or bend him over and –

He let go of his dick and forced his thoughts back into safer paths.

Next came the bra. It was slightly padded, not meant to alter his silhouette by much. He might have done without, but he enjoyed the feel of it cinched tight against his skin, and the way the lace rubbed against his nipples when he twisted and arched in a certain way. He closed the door to his bedroom so that he could check his appearance in the full length mirror on the back of the door. Without his makeup or wig, he looked like just what he was: a man in a bra and panties. He relished this look almost as much as the finished product.

He shortened the bra straps a few millimeters, and pressed his hands over the cups, loving the subtle altitude provided by the padding. Unable to resist, he stroked himself through the panties, until he’d hardened enough that the plum-shaped head of his cock poked obscenely over the edge.

Biting his lower lip hard, he tucked himself back down and debated. Maybe it would be best to take the edge off so he didn’t embarrass himself later. He’d ruin the panties, which were pricey, but unlike his college and bike messenger days, he could afford to be extravagant. He had several more nearly identical pairs in his dresser.

He perched on the edge of the bed, where he could watch himself in the mirror, spread his legs wide and caressed himself through the delicate lace. He slipped the fingers of his other hand underneath the bra and teased his nipple, gently at first, and then with more force, pressing down and rubbing at the hardening nub. Stretching out the fabric of his panties until he heard a soft rip, he pulled a layer around his cock, wrapped his palm around himself and stroked, fast, rough and desperate.

 _You’re a dirty boy,_ purred the voice in his head which wasn’t his own. _That’s right. Come all over yourself for daddy, you filthy slut._

A trembling whine started at the back of his throat and increased in volume to fill his head like a siren, until he erupted inside the sheathing of lace, with his heart hammering away in his chest. “God,” he gasped. “ _Fuck_.” He collapsed onto his back, breathing like a bellows.

When he finally came down, and emerged from his haze, he grimaced at the mess he’d made of himself. Now he would have to begin the ritual all over again with a shower.

**

Mike gave his lashes one last swipe of mascara, and picked up the lip-liner. Working with precision achieved through hours of practice, he outlined his lips, and followed that with a careful application of lipstick in a rosy pink that matched the subtly blended color on his cheekbones. Stepping back from the mirror, he viewed the finished product, turning his head from side to side, searching for flaws, and finally gave a satisfied nod. Slutty but sophisticated. Perfection.

Still in only bra and panties, he returned to the bedroom and opened his lingerie drawer. Stockings or pantyhose? Sometimes he preferred the constrictive feel of pantyhose, hugging his junk tight and close, but stockings were more elegant, not to mention their better ease of access. Elegance felt more appropriate tonight. And if someone wanted to access him, the easier the better.

He selected his nicest garter belt, black satin trimmed with delicate rosettes, arranged it over his hips, and lifted two stockings that felt like a whisper against his fingers. Sitting on the bed, he pulled them on, one by one, smoothed them into place, and attached them to the garter belt.

Standing once more, he studied himself in the mirror, savoring the picture he made, and half-afraid that he would come again from the sight. That was not the plan, however, so he turned away and reached for the skirt. It slid easily up and over his hips, and he zipped up the back, struggled for a few seconds with the flat, hidden hook, and tugged at the fabric until the slender silhouette fell properly. Next came the blouse, which felt cool and slippery against his skin.

As he buttoned it up, he fought a smile, reflecting on how much the outfit was inspired by Rachel and the way she dressed. At least his wig was blonde, and not brunette, so … not a complete psychopath. He adjusted it on his head, and the long hair fell over his shoulders and down his back like a silken waterfall. Sometimes, he liked to pull it back into a high ponytail to feel it swinging behind him. Tonight, he’d leave it loose.

He transferred money, credit card and ID to a designer clutch that matched the blouse, adding lipstick, three condoms, and a travel size bottle of lube. Stepping into a strappy black pair of Jimmy Choo’s, he draped a light wool coat over one arm, tucked his clutch under the other, and clicked out into the living room, hips swaying.

He took a deep breath. Was he ready for this? He dressed up every other month or so, when stress at work grew too much to bear, but it had been close to two years since he’d gone out in public like this – since Harvey had hired him. He’d missed the thrill, but it suddenly felt strange and reckless. He stared at the front door. Maybe he should stay home, order some food, watch a movie.

No. That would only leave room for thinking, which was the last thing he wanted or needed tonight. The pain of losing Grammy was still too raw for him to handle. He needed to get out of his head. Drink a little. Dance a little. Get laid.

He was still staring at the door, weighing up his options, when someone knocked.

***

It was not difficult to deduce who was likely on the other side of the door. Mike had been expecting Harvey to at least call to confirm that he was fired. A personal visit with face-to-face confrontation was more Harvey’s style, though.

A second knock shook the walls.

Mike folded his coat over the back of a chair and set his clutch on the kitchen counter.

“Mike?” came Harvey’s voice, muffled by the door, but still recognizable. “We need to talk.”

Mike pressed his lips together, and then rubbed a finger underneath his lower lip, checking for pink smudges.

 _BAM BAM BAM._ “Open the goddamned door. I’m not leaving until you talk to me.”

Mike clicked over to the door and lay one palm against it. “I’m busy,” he declared just loudly enough to be heard on the other side.

A pause. “I know about your grandmother.”

Mike let that sink in. As it did, the oppression of grief returned in a sickening rush. He swallowed around the threat of tears, and considered his options. Tell Harvey to get fucked? Or invite him in and …what? Tell him to get fucking? He hesitated, vacillating.

“Please, Mike.” Soft and pleading.

Mike sniffed once. What did it matter? If he was going to be fired, might as well go out in epic style. Bracing himself for ridicule and disgust, chin tipped up, he opened the door and stared defiantly into Harvey’s eyes. Harvey went completely still. Mike saw his pupils dilate, heard the quick inhale.

“ _Jesus_ ,” Harvey breathed, and just stared.

Mike endured it for as long as he could, and then narrowed his eyes and set one hand on his hip. “That’s all you have to say?”

“No. Yes. I mean, I’m a little speechless here. This is … unexpected.”

Mike gave a cynical huff. “How would you know what to expect? You haven’t exactly made it a priority to get to know me. So why don’t you just tell me, yes or no, if I’m fired or not, and then I can get on with my night.” He considered shutting the door, but Harvey had moved closer, leaning one forearm against the doorjamb.

“No. Not fired. Absolutely not fired. And aren’t you going to invite me in?” His dark gaze traveled up and down Mike, taking in every detail.

“Uh,” said Mike, forced to step quickly out of the way when Harvey pushed past him into the apartment. “Sure, come right in.” He retreated to the far wall and crossed his arms over his chest, finding weird comfort in the cool fabric of his blouse and outline of his bra, which he could feel under his fingertips.

Harvey licked his lips, and his eyes darted away. “When I told you to go home, I didn’t mean you should never come back.”

Mike didn’t know how to respond to that, so he shrugged and smoothed a hand over his hair, fiddling with the ends.

“So, you doing okay?” Harvey paced two steps closer.

A strangled laugh worked its way out of Mike’s throat. “Not so much. She was all I had.” He watched Harvey watch him, and he let loose a heavy sigh. “I know you’re dying to say something, so just get it out of your system.”

Harvey tilted his head to one side. “You were right.”

Mike frowned. “About what?”

“You can most definitely pull it off.”

It took a moment for Mike to understand what Harvey was talking about, but then he remembered the brief exchange they’d had months earlier. He flipped his hair back over his shoulder. “Thank you, I guess.” His mouth twisted into a smile. “When you pictured it, is this what you saw?”

Harvey took another step towards him. “Not even close.” His eyes shone with something that looked like equal parts intrigue and mischief. “So who is this for? Just for you? Or … ?”

Mike was not prepared to attempt an explanation of something he didn’t fully understand himself, so he shrugged one shoulder. “It’s a thing I enjoy. No big deal. I was just trying to decide whether to go out or stay in.”

“Go out? Where do you go, looking like that?”

Mike tightened his arms around his chest, and his chin edged higher. “Wherever the hell I want to. The movies. The grocery store.”

“You’re on your way to the grocery store?”

“No. Not specifically.” Growing unnerved by Harvey’s unrelenting perusal, he pushed away from the wall and paced nervously to the kitchen, where he leaned against the counter and toyed with the clasp on his clutch. “Since you’re so curious, I’ll tell you. There’s a club I go to sometimes.” Harvey said nothing, continuing to watch him with his head tilted to the side. Mike let out an impatient huff. “Well, isn’t it obvious?” He lifted one foot and waggled it back and forth. “I’m wearing my fuck me pumps.”

Now Harvey’s gaze locked in on Mike’s foot. “Huh. So you’re telling me you were on your way out the door to go get laid?”

“That was the plan.”

“And just to be clear … by a man?”

“If you intend on being a homophobic douchebag about this, you can get the fuck out right now.”

Harvey’s eyes snapped back up to Mike’s face. “Douchebag? Possibly. Quite likely, in fact. But homophobic? Never. Not even close.” He began a slow stalk forward. “You were right, Mike. I’ve never really gotten to know you. And you don’t know me either, besides what you see at work.”

Mike resisted the urge to back away, having nowhere to go except further into the kitchen, which would leave him boxed in. The air felt charged all of a sudden with something heavy and electric and bordering on violence. “What are you doing?” he asked in a strained voice.

With less than a foot between them, Harvey halted his advance. “You look really pretty like that.”

Mike hated how his heart leapt at Harvey’s words, but he couldn’t deny the way they made him feel: warm and light and jittery. He touched two fingers to the base of his neck and rubbed his lips together, feeling the sticky friction of lipstick. “If you’re playing with me ...”

Harvey eased closer. Mike could feel the heat rising off of him. He still wore his suit, appearing as heartbreakingly perfect as always. His hands were clenched at his sides, as if fighting the urge to touch Mike. “I’m not playing. Unless you want me to.”

Harvey’s words dropped into the silence between them and sat there, expectant and dangerous in their implications.

“I sort of do,” Mike whispered, and listened to the echo of his words with a faint sense of horror.

A knowing smile creased Harvey’s handsome face.

“What – ” Mike had to stop and swallow several times. “What did you have in mind?” And dear God, why did his skirt have to be so tight? Surely the growing bulge of his erection was clearly visible, betraying the surge of arousal. His breath quickened and he put his hands behind himself, propping himself against the cool surface of the refrigerator.

One more step brought Harvey close enough to brace his hands on either side of Mike’s head. “What do I have in mind? Hm. Let me think. First, I want to peel your shirt open to see what you’ve got underneath there. I’m betting it’s soft and lacy and a little dirty. And then I want to stick my hands up your skirt and –”

Mike groaned at the pictures Harvey was putting in his head. He brought his hands out from behind himself and reached for his buttons, but Harvey stopped him.

“No,” he murmured. “Allow me.” He moved Mike’s hands down to his sides and began working his buttons, leisurely and confident. When he’d gotten them open far enough to get a look at Mike’s bra, he paused, eyes darkening. “Very nice,” he murmured, and leaned forward to kiss Mike’s neck.

With his hands holding the blouse open, he licked a slow, delicate path down the tendon of Mike’s neck, to his throat, and down further to his breastbone. With the fingertips of one hand, he pulled down one side of the bra and licked a slow spiral around the nipple, closer and tighter, finally latching onto the nub with careful suction while his other hand moved to Mike’s hip.

“Such a pretty girl,” he whispered, breath wafting coolly against Mike’s wet flesh. “Such pretty, pink nipples.” He eased down the other lacy cup and tongued that side just as tenderly and thoroughly as he had the first. “Mmm. So sweet.”

The back of Mike’s head hit the refrigerator door with a soft thud, and his eyes drifted shut. God, Harvey was such a bastard. Of course he’d guess exactly – _exactly_ – what to do and say to send Mike straight out of his mind. Harvey’s tongue and teeth were driving him insane, and he felt the front of his panties growing damp. “Please,” he heard himself beg breathlessly.

“That’s what I aim to do. Come over here.” Harvey placed a hand at the small of his back and guided him to the counter. “Put your hands here and here.” He positioned them on the countertop so that Mike was leaning over slightly. “Legs apart.” Harvey emphasized his instruction by using his own foot to kick Mike’s as far apart as they would go in the confining skirt. “Hm. That won’t do.” Harvey grabbed handfuls of fabric and rucked the skirt up Mike’s hips until he could feel air on the back of his thighs.

Harvey did not speak again for nearly a full minute. Mike could hear him breathing. Then, “ _Jesus_ , Mike. That is really hot.” Long, elegant fingers ran up the garter straps and slipped between his legs to tease his thighs . His palms cupped Mike’s ass, thumbs stroking, and then shoved under the lace and silk to squeeze his cheeks, pulling them apart. He rubbed his crotch against Mike’s bottom, letting him feel his rigid length through his trousers.

Mike’s hands slipped and he jerked forward, falling onto his elbows. “Fuck, Harvey. Fuck.” He thrust his ass out, offering more, offering Harvey anything he wanted.

One of Harvey’s arms circled his waist, clutching tight. His other hand came around to thrust down the front of Mike’s panties, grasping his cock. “Nice,” Harvey breathed hotly in his ear. “So nice. So good for me.” His thumb teased the sensitive spot under the head of Mike’s cock, causing him to whine and hump wildly, searching for more. “Shh,” Harvey soothed. “Hush, pretty. I’m going to take care of you.”

Mike felt Harvey drop to his knees behind him. His panties were dragged down to mid-thigh, and his cheeks parted. A gust of warm breath hit his entrance, followed by Harvey’s tongue, wet and hot, muscling its way past resistance, licking into him. Strong arms twined around his thighs, holding him immobile, while fingertips teased his sensitive thighs. Mike stretched his arms out straight, reaching for the other side of the counter, and held on tight, teetering precariously in his heels, lifting up to his toes as Harvey drove his tongue deep, eating him out with gusto.

Words and noises were coming out of Mike’s mouth which made no sense, and should have embarrassed him. He barely noticed, being too focused on the filthy things Harvey was doing to him with his tongue. “Y-you’re gonna make me come,” he finally managed to get out, making it sound like an accusation.

“Good,” said Harvey, the word distorted by his tongue which was currently fucking in and out of Mike’s ass in quick little stabs.

“N-no. I, I wanna. Urgh. _Shit._ With you inside me. P-please. _Please,_ Harvey.”

Harvey kept on with what he was doing, running one hand up and down Mike’s stockinged leg, as if he couldn’t get enough of the smooth feel of him.

Tears of frustration pricked Mike’s eyes, and bled into his voice as he babbled out his pleas to Harvey. “N-no. Please. Need you to fuck me. Please, Harvey. I’ll be good. I’ll be good. I’ll be your good boy. I’ll be your good little girl. S-stop. Oh, please stop.”

Finally, Harvey’s head lifted. Both hands stroked up and down Mike’s legs. “All right. I’ll give you what you want. First, let’s lose the skirt.” He rose to his feet, unzipped the skirt and worked it down Mike’s hips and off, holding him around the waist while he stepped out of it and kicked it out of the way. “And now these.”

Before Mike realized what he was about to do, he heard the sound of fabric tearing and saw his ruined panties hit the floor by his foot. “Shit,” he whispered, so turned on he thought he might come like a geyser right then.

Misinterpreting, Harvey petted his bare bottom and murmured, “Don’t worry about those. I’ll buy you a new pair.”

Mike didn’t care about the panties. He wanted Harvey inside him, and he didn’t want to wait any longer. Shedding the blouse, he settled back down on the counter, thrusting his now bare ass toward Harvey. “Do it.”

He gathered up his hair and tossed it over his shoulder and out of the way, then turned his head to watch Harvey remove his coat and set it aside, unfasten his belt and pants, and pull them down just far enough to free his cock – which was … _beautiful_. Long and thick, blood-dark and erect with an elegant curve to it. Mike moaned, unconsciously arching his back. One hand scrabbled around the counter, searching for his clutch. When he felt it under his hand, he thrust it back at Harvey. “Condoms,” he bit out. “And lube. In here.”

If Harvey was amused by the blue satin clutch, he didn’t waste time showing it. He retrieved a packet from inside, ripped it open, and rolled the condom onto his erect cock. When he plucked out the bottle of lube, Mike spoke up again.

“I’m ready,” he panted. “I-I prepped myself earlier. Just get inside me.”

“Such a greedy little girl.” Harvey slathered lube over his sheathed cock, pulled Mike’s cheeks apart and let his cock ride the crack for long seconds of torture. “Jesus. I wish you could see yourself, all slutted up in your bra and garter and stockings, teetering there in those insane heels.”

Mike closed his eyes, letting the filthy words wash over him. He felt the head of Harvey’s cock poke against his entrance, and then he was pushing inside, filling him, opening him up. Mike groaned and held on tight to the far edge of the counter, widening his stance and going slightly pigeon-toed in his heels. “Please,” he whispered, almost to himself, and then louder, “I need it hard. Hard and rough. I don’t want to think, just feel.”

Harvey continued his slow, careful push forward, gathering up Mike’s long blonde hair and moving it to one side so he could kiss and tongue the back of his neck. “Shh. I know. I know what you need.”

He bottomed out, groin flush again Mike’s ass, and remained still, giving Mike time he hadn’t thought he needed or wanted, but appreciated just the same. Meanwhile, his hands moved over Mike’s body, tracing the straps of the garter belt, fingertips touching his inner thighs lightly, stroking up and up, and then down again. He bit Mike’s shoulder, slipped his bra strap halfway off, and nipped him again. His hips jerked back as he pulled halfway out, and then drove forward again.

“Yes, please,” Mike breathed, on the verge of tears, filled with a strange mixture of grief and gratitude. “Oh, please. That’s it. That’s it.”

Harvey thrust harder, sped up, and established a strong, rhythmic pumping, gripping Mike’s hips, doing all the work while Mike could only struggle to stay on his feet and take what Harvey gave him. Harvey remained mostly quiet, except for the occasional soft exclamation or low curse.

By contrast, Mike babbled and moaned nonstop. When Harvey changed angles and hit his prostate, he squealed so loudly that he had to bite down on his arm to muffle the sound. He heard Harvey’s low, breathless laughter behind him and groaned deep in his throat, picturing fully clothed Harvey back there pounding into him. He lifted his head and gasped, trying to draw sufficient air into his lungs.

Harvey paused all the way inside him, again running a hand under Mike’s garter straps, teasing his thighs, and dragging his fingers up to his cock. He stroked up the underside with one finger before grasping him loosely. “You feel so good,” Harvey whispered. “So fucking tight and hot around me.” He tightened his hand around Mike and started moving again, letting the synchronized motion of their hips drive Mike’s cock back and forth through the circle of Harvey’s palm.

His rhythm remained measured and relentless, and Mike’s climb toward orgasm was excruciatingly slow. “Please,” he kept murmuring. “Please, please, please.” Then Harvey changed pace, now stroking Mike in counterpoint to his driving hips, hand moving faster and faster. A scream began building deep in Mike’s chest. Harvey pounded away behind him, his hand drove him higher and higher until finally, finally, he crested and time froze. His scream ripped loose while wave after wave of ecstasy slammed through him and his mind went silent.

He maintained a death grip on the edge of the counter to keep himself from collapse, as he both heard and felt Harvey coming inside of him, groaning and cursing, hips stuttering, and finally leaning in to mouth Mike’s shoulder. Both arms wrapped around his middle, holding him close, keeping them joined together as each of them panted and struggled to gain control of their breathing.

The seconds stretched, and Mike’s brain resumed functioning. His full weight rested on the counter, pressed down by Harvey behind him. Except for their breathing, utter quiet filled the room.   Too soon, Harvey moved, pulling out of Mike carefully and disposing of the condom. Mike stayed where he was. Sweat cooled on his neck and back. He could feel come starting to dry on his belly and thighs. He didn’t want to look behind him to witness Harvey’s regret, or to watch him putting himself back together and preparing to leave.

He jumped when a warm, wet cloth touched his bottom and worked itself between his legs. Harvey was cleaning him off. At this unexpected gesture of kindness, Mike crumbled inside. He rested his forehead against his arm and could do nothing to stop the sudden flow of tears, or the convulsive heaving of his back. One sob worked its way out of his throat, and then another, and then he was draped over his kitchen counter, dressed in women’s underwear, freshly fucked, and bawling like a child.

“S-stop,” Mike sobbed. “Please stop doing that.” The cloth left him, and he cried without restraint for long minutes, long enough that he almost forgot about Harvey. Eventually, the tears subsided and then faded away completely. He couldn’t seem to rouse himself, and continued hugging the counter, wishing without any real hope that Harvey would leave without saying a word, or that he could open his eyes to discover he had imagined the entire encounter.

Harvey laid a palm on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Mike. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

Mike sniffed, nodded his head wearily and pushed up off of the counter. “I know. But it hurts.” Feeling sheepish now about his appearance – about everything – he turned around to face his boss, and was relieved to find only kindness in his eyes.

“Why don’t you go get dressed? I’ll take you somewhere nice and buy you dinner.”

Mike hesitated, not sure what Harvey expected of him. He knew what he wanted, though, so he nodded his agreement, stepped out of his heels and carried them in one hand and held his discarded clothes in the other, and made his escape.

***

Mike dressed this time in a matching blue set of bra, panties and garter, underneath a clingy jersey dress in a shade of blue that the saleswoman had assured him matched his eyes perfectly. It was a less expensive knock-off of an ivory dress worn by Jessica. The Jimmy Choo’s were back on his feet. He’d freshened his makeup, brushed the long blonde hair until it gleamed, and circled his neck with a black satin choker.

Fighting nerves, he clicked back out to the living room. “Well?” he asked, chin tipped up. “Is this all right?”

Harvey’s wide smile sent Mike’s heartrate through the roof. “Even better than before.” He lifted Mike’s coat and helped him into it before handing him his clutch.

Mike could feel himself blush. “I think I might need to get drunk tonight.”

“I don’t blame you. I halfway expected to find you stoned out of your mind when I showed up tonight. I’m proud of you for finding other ways to cope.”

Later, Mike might admit to him how he’d spent most of the previous week. For now, he let the praise seep into him and warm him. “I’m serious, Harvey. Drunk. Really drunk.”

“Hey, I get it. Don’t worry about. You drink as much as you want. As much as it takes. I’ll be there to watch over you and keep you safe. Tomorrow will get a little easier, and the day after that and the day after that. One day you’ll wake up and know with absolute certainty that you’re going to make it through this.”

Mike nodded, and then on an impulse he turned and kissed Harvey, resting a hand on the back of his neck. Harvey kissed him back, filling Mike’s mouth with his tongue and molding a hand to his ass. The kiss didn’t last long. When Harvey pulled away, a shiny smear of Mike’s lipstick covered his lips. Mike tutted and swiped at it with his thumb.

Harvey placed a hand at the small of his back and guided him to the door and out of the apartment. When they reached the bottom floor, Mike stopped Harvey with a hand on his arm. "I should probably warn you: I can be a sloppy drunk."

“I think I can handle that. I’ll even hold your hair back while you puke.”

Mike smiled. As declarations went, it wasn’t half bad.

 

**The End.**


End file.
